


One More Time

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy and Rory break into a museum at night to investigate a curious relic. This can only end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clocketpatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/gifts).



At this time of night, the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art was dark, silent and empty. Or rather, it should have been silent and empty. 

"All clear?" Amy whispered. 

Rory peered through the grating. "As far as I can see." 

"Then get a move on. I'm getting cramp in here." 

Reluctantly, Rory fumbled with the grating until it slid open, then dragged himself out into the museum hall, with Amy close behind. Both were wearing black, hooded catsuits. 

"Spooky," she said, pitching her voice low. "I bet there's all sorts of creepy ancient things in here." 

"Me, for one," Rory said. He pulled out a torch, and switched it on. "This really takes me back. Two o'clock, and all's well." 

"Let's hope it is," Amy said. "Now, where's the Egyptian stuff?" 

Cautiously, flitting from one shadow to another, the two made their way to the gallery they sought. 

"Are you all right?" Amy asked. 

"Why shouldn't I be?" 

"Every time you take a long step you go 'ooh.' And you try to do it quietly so I don't hear it. Is your catsuit catching?" Amy fixed her husband with a glare that would probably have worked better if there had been enough light for him to see it. "It is, isn't it? Why didn't you tell me when I was making them?" 

"It didn't happen then. I think it's ridden up when I was crawling around in those vents." 

"Well, don't try and pull it down now." Amy lightly slapped her husband's arm. "You'd look like a weirdo." 

"As opposed to a totally normal museum visitor who happens to be breaking in at dead of night to open a sarcophagus." 

"A sarcophagus," Amy reminded him, "that knows the tune to _Baby One More Time_." 

"Which won't be written for years and years and years. You've only got Anthony's word for it, haven't you?" 

"If he says he heard it, he heard it," Amy said firmly. 

⁂

The sarcophagus looked much as Rory had expected: a bulky, painted wooden box, its carved and painted eyes staring blankly upwards. At Amy's gesture, Rory put his ear close to it. 

"I can't hear anything," he said. 

"Maybe it's asleep," Amy said. "I'll see if I can wake it up." 

Rory spread his hands. "Since when has waking up something in a sarcophagus ever been a good idea?" he asked the Universe at large. 

Amy knocked on the sarcophagus, four times. 

"There!" she said, triumphantly. "Listen now." 

Rory listened again. Sure enough, sepulchral music was emanating from the depths of the sarcophagus. He couldn't be sure whether it was indeed Britney Spears' masterwork, but he certainly couldn't rule it out. 

"Now what?" he asked. 

"Now we open it, of course," Amy said. 

"That's nice. We'll get eaten by some hideous mummy." 

"You shouldn't watch all those old silent movies. That sort of thing doesn't happen in real life." 

"Says the woman who was sent back in time by Weeping Angels." 

"Anyway," Amy said firmly, "it's got to be River." 

"River? In there?" 

"I'm pretty sure. Better than evens, anyway. It's the sort of thing she'd do." 

"I suppose so." Fighting against every museum-guard instinct, Rory took hold of one end of the heavy lid, Amy the other. An instant later, they jumped back, their hands stinging. Four handprints glowed on the surface of the sarcophagus; as they faded, the lid swung open of its own accord. 

"River?" Amy asked, bending over the coffin. 

"Who's River?" a muffled, unfamiliar voice answered her. 

"Rory!" Amy hissed. "Torch! Over here! Now!" 

Trying to stop his hands shaking, Rory aimed the torch at the sarcophagus. A figure, bandaged from head to toe, was sitting up in the box, its hands already trying to free its head. Before Rory could say anything, Amy was pulling at the bandages, exposing the head of a woman. Her hair was dark and bobbed, her expression that of one used to command. 

"Took you long enough," she said, as the bandages fell away from her mouth. "Let's have a look at you." 

Rory aimed the torch first at Amy, then at himself. 

"And which one of you's the Doctor?" the woman went on. "Because whichever one you are, you've really let yourself go." 

"The Doctor isn't here," Rory said. "He can't come to New York because there's a time paradox—" 

"Really?" The woman grimaced. "So you haven't got a TARDIS?" 

"Nope," Amy said. "Haven't you?" 

"Not yet." The woman rose to her feet, bandages falling away. "I think we'd better get out of here before that thing attracts a shoal of metaphorical pilot fish." She nodded at the sarcophagus. "Lead on, whoever you are... what are your names, by the way?" 

"I'm Amy," Amy said. "That's Rory." 

"Amy and Rory. Simple enough." 

"So who are you?" Amy asked, as the three started retracing Amy and Rory's earlier route through the museum. 

"Don't you want to guess?" the new arrival asked. 

"Not a clue," Amy said. "Rory?" 

"Stupid question," Rory said. "You're not Louise Brooks, are you?" 

"You're right," the woman said. "It was a stupid question." 

"So, aren't you going to tell us?" Amy asked, after it became clear nothing more was to be said. 

"I don't use my name any more," the woman said. "It's a Time Lord thing. You can call me... Vengeance. Yes, I think 'Vengeance' will do. Now, I've got quite a to-do list to get started on. Destroy a planet or two, wipe out the occasional species — oh, and is there anywhere in this city that sells tea? I'm dying for a cuppa." 

"What did I say?" Rory whispered to Amy, as they crawled back into the museum's ventilation ducts, the newly-titled Vengeance close behind them. "Nothing good. Ever."


End file.
